


dandelion

by Aurea (aureafolia), aureafolia



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Choices, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Forgiveness, Growing Up Together, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Minor Character Death, Nostalgia, Nuzlocke Challenge, Regret, Retrospective, Sonia POV, buckle up for that slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureafolia/pseuds/Aurea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureafolia/pseuds/aureafolia
Summary: The eve of summer brings change, warmth, and new beginnings. Years have passed since Sonia's own failed attempt at the League, but time alone does not heal wounds.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Sonia, Hop & Sonia (Pokemon), Kibana | Raihan/Rurina | Nessa (background)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 70





	1. homecoming

She cleans when she’s anxious.  
  
It’s a habit she picked up from Gran, which is why the lab is always immaculate -- why she always has to get creative when looking for ways to busy herself. She pulls books for her research, organizes them by author, then by title when she finds herself grasping for something to do. Empties her pen cup and wipes out the bottom of it, takes a duster to the air vent. Waters all the plants for the second time today, which buys her a good half hour given their ever-growing collection.  
  
But still, inevitably, she finds herself hovering in the doorway of Gran’s office.  
  
Magnolia doesn’t look up immediately, glasses pushed down the brim of her nose as she peers at a nearly minuscule, glowing red chunk of rock. She’s holding her breath, steadying shaky hands as she attempts to delicately pick up the wishing star fragment with a pair of tweezers. Sonia shifts and the old wooden floor groans its displeasure, breaking the professor’s concentration enough that her hand jumps, and she curses under her breath. She turns her chair slowly, leveling her gaze on Sonia and giving her a stern look. “Can I help you, dear, or are you beyond it today? If you water my plants again they’re sure to rot.”  
  
Perfectly manicured nails tap idly on the doorframe. “Just seeing if there’s anything else you’d like cleaned, while I’m in the mood.”  
  
Gran shakes her head, twirling back in her seat and returning her focus to her studies. “The lab’s practically a mausoleum, Sonia, and I’m not dead yet. If you’re bored, don’t you have research you’re neglecting?”  
  
Sonia pulls a face, and slowly peels herself away from the door. “Not that desperate, Gran.”  
  
Never that desperate.  
  
She flops on the sofa in the waiting area and sighs. Gizmo lifts his head to look her way, but clearly has no desire to join her. He’s dragged his bed into the patch of sunlight that streams in through the atrium’s glass windows, soaking in the warmth of late spring.  
  
Windows. That’s something she hasn’t tended to yet.  
  
There’s glass cleaner under the sink in the kitchenette. She crouches to look for it, moving aside the dish soap and a large box of disposable gloves. She starts by wiping at a smudge on the faucet she must’ve missed earlier, then moves to the window above the counter.  
  
Her heart drops into her stomach when she sees a crowd forming outside of the train station.  
  
“Sonia,” Gran calls, voice floating through the fog in her head, “if you’re still looking for things to do, be a dear and run an errand for me? You’ve been breathing in cleaning fumes all day, fresh air might do you some good before you go completely off your trolley.”  
  
“What for, Gran?” she calls back. Her eyes scour the crowd, looking for a sweeping cape and stupid cap. She pinches her nose. Rotten timing. “I was thinking about cracking open that book you wanted me to look into.”  
  
“Is that so.” She hears shuffling footsteps behind her, and turns to see Gran making her way over. She looks her granddaughter up and down, and clucks her tongue with feigned concern. “My, then I’m afraid it’s worse than I thought.”  
  
Sonia rolls her eyes, leaning one hip against the counter and resting her hand on the other. “You’re awful cheeky today.”  
  
Magnolia waves her away with a poorly hid grin, sets down her cup of tea, and eases herself into a wooden chair. She watches quietly as Sonia wipes the dust from the windowsill, and hums. “I was hoping you could pick up some groceries. As eager as you must be to start reading a book I gave you three months ago, surely a little detour won’t hurt.”  
  
Sonia winces, turning her attention back to the window. She sees a flash of orange now -- no doubt his Charizard, Vesta, parading around and soaking up the limelight. The crowd parts briefly, and she sees a mane of raven hair spilling out of a _ridiculous_ snapback --  
  
She sprays more cleaner on the window than necessary, obscuring her view as it streaks down the glass. She takes her time wiping it away. “Yeah, alright. I’ll run in this afternoon.”  
  
“Sonia.”  
  
It’s rare Gran takes a serious tone, and it’s surprising enough that it drags her attention away from the colors of the crowd bleeding together like a mosaic. She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head ever so slightly in response, as if she doesn’t know what’s coming.  
  
“This isn’t about Leon’s homecoming, is it?”  
  
She sputters unconvincingly, tucking a lock of hair behind her hair and turning her nose up indignantly. “I haven’t seen him in years. Why would that matter any?”  
  
Magnolia eyes her for a moment around the lip of her teacup, taking a delicate sip. “Brilliant, because the Harris’ invited us over for his welcome dinner tonight. I told them you’d bring the slaw.”  
  
Her jaw tightens. She returns to wiping at the window in broad strokes, straight up and down to reduce streaks. “Of course. That’s no problem.”  
  
“Good,” Gran muses, reaching over to tap Sonia’s calf lightly with her cane, “I thought I’d raised you with more sense than to worry over a man, of all things.”  
  
She gives her gran a tight smile, depositing the wadded paper towel in the trash and stowing the glass cleaner away in one swift movement. The Leon she knew wasn’t a man. He was just a boy -- reckless, earnest, with unruly hair and no sense of direction. She inhales sharply and tries to remember this version of the unbeatable Champion. It’s easier that way.  
  
“I think I’ll manage.”


	2. young

ii. young

The Harris' cottage hasn't changed at all over the years.  
  
Vines entangle the stone fence lining the property, overflowing from the flowerbeds that are meticulously tended to by Ms. Harris. Gizmo trots along ahead of Sonia excitedly, tail wagging as he takes in the familiar smells. How many times had he visited here with her as a pup? Back then, she'd found any excuse possible to turn up at their door.  
  
Now, she finds herself looking for any excuse to turn around.  
  
Gran turned in early for the evening, leaving her to bring the coleslaw alone. Even down the way, she can hear laughter, smell the smoke from the fire spit, see the warm glow of the lanterns hanging from the pergola. Her grip tightens on the glass bowl as they crest the hill and round the corner, passing through the gate that's swung wide open, welcoming her inside.  
  
She'd been expecting a large party -- not an intimate family barbecue.  
  
"Good evening, Sonia!" chirps Ms. Harris, making her way over. She frowns slightly, glancing around Sonia as if she's disappointed to see only Gizmo and her shadow in tow. "Is the professor not joining us this evening?"  
  
"She sends her apologies," Sonia says quickly, extending the bowl. "We've been swamped prepping for challenge season. You know how it goes."  
  
"Better than anyone, dear," she says with a wink. She doesn't take the dish. "Come on, food's not getting any warmer!"  
  
Just like the house, Hop is exactly how she remembers him.  
  
Granted, he's shot up over the years. Lankier, lost the baby fat in his cheeks, but still energetic and annoying as ever. He animatedly speaks with his friend -- another boy about his age -- gesturing with his skewers wildly. He only slows when he catches sight of her, and _oh_ , apparently that hasn't changed, either.  
  
He's almost cute, the way his forehead pinches when he frowns at the sight of her. He sets down his food and walks over, hands stuffed in his pockets churlishly. "If you're looking for Lee, he's--"  
  
"I'm not," she assures him coolly. "Your mum invited Gran and me."  
  
He relaxes a bit. "Oh, yeah. You help give out the Pokedexes 'n stuff to new challengers now, right?"  
  
She raises an eyebrow, and holds up the bowl of slaw. "Erm, I guess. I wasn't told to bring anything but this." His face clouds a little, and she glances over at his friend -- and it's then that it clicks. "Oh, is that what the party's for? You're challenging this year?"  
  
Suddenly, it makes a lot more sense why it's a small crowd.  
  
He stoops down to rub Gizmo's ears fondly, making his hair stand on end with static. "Yeah! Got my license 'n everything. Lee's here to see me an' my mate off, and give us his endorsement!"  
  
Gods above, they're starting them young these days. Her lips form a thin line. "Congratulations, Hop. Really." She taps the glass bowl with a fingernail, "Now, where can I put this?"  
  
In the house he tells her, of course, with the rest of the food. She'd been hoping he'd carry it in for her like a right gentleman, but she supposes it's a stretch to expect that sort of hospitality from a 13 year-old. Especially the notoriously clueless Harris boys.  
  
Which is how she finds herself in the kitchen, rooting through the drawers, trying to remember where they keep their slotted spoons. She doesn't think much of the distant voice in the other room, until it starts to float closer. Deep, official, but familiar all the same.  
  
Shit.  
  
She abandons the slaw, leaving it without proper utensils in her haste to make it to the door.  
  
"Sonia?"  
  
She freezes with her handle on the knob, takes a millisecond to compose herself, and then turns and gives him what she hopes passes as a pleasant smile. "Leon." He's staring, like she's the last person on earth he was expecting to see here, in this cottage where they practically grew up together. Like he's seeing a ghost.  
  
Maybe that's not too far off.  
  
The person on the other end of the line is still jabbering. Sonia blinks languidly, tilting her head to the side, and nods at his Rotom phone. "You gonna…?"  
  
That snaps him out of whatever stupor he's in. "Hey, listen mate, we've got guests arriving so -- yeah, next week, that's fine. Give the chairman my thanks."  
  
He tucks the phone away in his pocket, and smiles warmly. "God, it's been ages!"  
  
"It has," she says, keeping her voice level even as her heartbeat quickens. Her eyes skim over him briefly -- she doesn't allow herself to linger. Not on his taut shirt, nor his five o' clock shadow, and definitely not on his amber eyes. "You're looking well."  
  
"They feed me good," he laughs, patting his stomach, and it's genuine. His phone beeps again, and she sees his hand twitch to check it. To his credit though, he doesn't. He steps forward and hesitates, like maybe he'd hug her if she didn't still have a hand on the doorknob. If there wasn't an eight year gap preventing any of this from feeling normal. "How've you been?"  
  
"Fine," she says, voice clipped. The knob turns. "Should we…"  
  
"Oh, yeah, I better get back out there," he says with a sigh, rolling his shoulders as if to prepare himself for a performance. "Just had to take a quick call."  
  
He follows her out the door and to the side patio, where everyone is clearly awaiting his return.  
  
Sonia doesn't miss Hop's glare at the sight of them together.  
  
She sits at the far end of the table, next to Hop's mate's mother. She introduces herself, and asks how Sonia knows the Harris'. Sonia opens her mouth to respond, but Leon -- from the head of the table, of _course_ \-- jumps in. "Sonia's the best cook! She makes a mean slaw."  
  
A good _cook_? The tablecloth -- cheap polyester, dark in color and easy to launder -- bunches in her fist, and it's all she can do not to snap at him. Is that really all he thinks of her? After everything -- a good bloody cook. She shoves a bite of the offending slaw into her mouth, buying herself a moment to think of a proper response. "Yes, that's absolutely what I'm known for. My _cooking_ ," she says, hoping it sounds as bitter as she feels. "Never mind that we were rivals." Or childhood friends. Or anything more than that.  
  
Hop snorts. "I don't really remember anyone but Raihan giving Lee a serious challenge. He's the greatest trainer in all of Galar!" He looks to his big brother, and gods, it's borderline pathetic how he panders for his attention.  
  
She almost says what she's thinking -- that it's hard to notice anything when your head is so far up someone else's arse -- but she holds her tongue. This is Hop's big night, and besides, it's not him she's frustrated with.  
  
Just make it through dinner, she tells herself. Get through dinner, grab the bowl, and get the hell out of dodge.  
  
But it's never that simple.  
  
Immediately following dinner, Leon makes a sweeping announcement: he comes bearing gifts. Everyone applauds -- _applauds_ , honest to god, like they aren't his own family and neighbors -- and he releases three pokemon with flourish.  
  
They're rare pokemon -- each having been on the endangered species list at some point or another. Hop is living up to his name, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. He clearly has his pick lined out -- no doubt the fire starter, to follow in Leon's footsteps. But his mother places a hand on his shoulder and clears her throat, stilling him instantly. Hop deflates, and turns to his friend. "Victor, you're our guest. You can pick first if you'd like."  
  
Victor strides forward, considering his options, and kneels before the Sobble. It shrinks from the attention, color fading from its skin as it tries to blend in with its surroundings. _Relatable_ , she thinks, but Victor is patient. He doesn't say a word, just coos gentle sounds and extends a hand. The Sobble glances back at Leon, who gives an encouraging nod, and the water-type slowly creeps up the sleeve of his new trainer's arm, clinging to his shoulder.  
  
Sonia sucks in a breath. Kid's a natural.  
  
Hop tries to take a cue from his friend by crouching slowly in front of the Scorbunny, but he's practically vibrating with excitement and nerves, and he's about as piss-poor as Leon at hiding it. The Scorbunny's nose wriggles, ears pinned back, and tilts its head curiously before returning Hop's proffered fist-bump. Hop whoops in triumph, startling the poor Sobble into a fit of tears, but his new Scorbunny mimics its trainer and leaps for joy.  
  
Sonia finds herself reaching for Gizmo idly, and burying her hands in the ruff of fur on his neck. She remembers, vaguely, how sweet it was to first connect with your starter. Her Boltund leans into her touch, stretching with a weary sigh, and her fingers brush over a thin, hairless line of scar tissue across his throat.  
  
Her own throat tightens. _Too young. They're starting them too young._  
  
The two overzealous boys practically fall over themselves racing to the open field next to the house. The grass is clipped low, faded white lines painted to outline the 'battlefield'. Sonia wonders how many practice battles -- imaginary and real, she and Leon had in this very spot.  
  
She hazards a glance his way, and he's watching them with a blank smile, arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable. Sonia wonders if he even remembers such humble beginnings.  
  
"Challengers!" Leon booms, clearly giving his best impression of the chairman. It elicits nervous giggles from the boys, and makes her stomach turn. "This is your very first official Pokemon battle! Show us what you've got!"  
  
"You're going down, Vic!" Hop crows, winding his arm to warm up. His Scorbunny watches in earnest, and tries to imitate the action by flailing its arms.  
  
The battle is boring, as most beginner ones are. Both trainers and pokemon are inexperienced and hesitant to hit, spending most of their time dancing around the inevitable. Victor clearly has the type advantage, but Hop doesn't seem deterred in the slightest.  
  
He reminds her so much of his brother.  
  
"Hey." Speak of the devil. She feels Leon sidle up next to her, hands shoved in his pockets as he kicks at a dirt clod. It takes everything in her power not to look at him. "I'm glad you came out tonight. It was really good to see you."  
  
"Oh, you know me. I'll jump at any excuse to cook."  
  
He winces, and rubs at the back of his neck. "C'mon Sonia, you know I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to compliment you."  
  
She huffs, not taking her eye off the battle at hand, boring though it was. "I _am_ a bloody good cook," she mutters.  
  
He brightens. "You are! And a brilliant researcher, a patient teacher. And a great trainer," he adds, reaching down to stroke Gizmo's snout. She sneaks a glance at him, and he gives her a lopsided smile that makes her knees feel weak. He nudges his shoulder against hers disarmingly, and _ugh_ it's not fair how well it works. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you?"  
  
Warmth burns across her cheeks like a wildfire, and she's grateful for the dwindling light. She crosses her arms pointedly. "Pay attention to the battle, will you? Hop's looking over here every thirty seconds to make sure you're still watching, and you know how he feels about me."  
  
Leon sighs, rubbing at his chin. "If he'd pay more attention to his partner he wouldn't be losing." She can't deny that. Hop's getting his ass handed to him. Leon shakes his head, and then inclines his head toward her. "Hey, so can they come get their pokedexes tomorrow? I was planning on seeing them off, but I've got to be back in Motostoke soon."  
  
It's not a problem. It's a simple phone patch, is all. But the request doesn't sit well with her. "Oh? Off so soon after gracing us with your presence for the first time in god knows how long?"  
  
He blinks. "It's my job. We're prepping for the opening ceremony. I'll be around all season though."  
  
Hop lets out a shout as his Scorbunny collapses in defeat, doused and exhausted. He cradles it close to his chest, but his eyes are on his brother.  
  
"I'll be right back," Leon says, making his way over to the field to join the two boys. He places a hand on Hop's shoulder comfortingly, and shakes Victor's hand. Everyone swarms them, leaving Sonia on the fringe. It feels like she's intruding. It's a stark reminder of everything that _has_ changed over time, even if the house and yard and people look more or less the same.  
  
She leaves as quietly as she came.


	3. focus

iii. focus  
  


_“Earth to Leon. Are you even listening?”  
  
He’s got his face buried in his arms and hood pulled up over his head, completely unresponsive. She sighs, and leans over to give him a quick poke between the ribs. He nearly jumps out of his chair, clutching his side dramatically, and she can’t help but smirk at his look of betrayal. “Sunnyyyyy,” he whines, “you know I’m ticklish…”  
  
“I also know you need to ace this test if you plan to get passing marks,” she says sternly, shuffling the flashcards she made for him back into the deck. When he doesn’t look up, she turns to face him, pinning him with a look modeled after Gran. “Do you want to get accepted into the dojo or not?”  
  
“Of course I do,” he grumbles, slouching further into his seat.  
  
“So what’s the problem?”  
  
“What if…” he trails off, rubbing at the back of his neck. It’s his tell for embarrassment, uncertainty -- something that rarely surfaces outside of their tutoring sessions. “What if, after all this studying, after all this hard work… what if it’s still not enough?”  
  
Sonia purses her lips, taps the deck of flashcards against the table to make sure they’re flush, and then whaps him on the arm with them. He yelps, surprised, and she swats at him once more for good measure. “Hey -- **jeez** , what was that for?”  
  
“For implying that you could possibly fail with me as your teacher,” she says. He slumps against the counter with a huff, and she softens a bit. When she prods him again, it’s gentle. “Hey, look at me. You’re going to do great on this test, you’re going to get into the dojo, and when you do?” He lifts his head a bit, and she grins mischievously. “We’re going to rub it right in Avery’s dumb, smug face.”  
  
It’s enough to coax a smile out of him._   
  


\----------

  
Gran is shameless.  
  
She fawns over Leon like he’s some sort of prince, not a doofus in a tacky cape. Makes him tea, asks about his travels, wants to know about his experiences with Dynamaxing. Old flirt. Not that she can blame her much.  
  
Their conversation comes easily, floating across the room and causing a prickle of annoyance as Sonia tries to walk the boys through their new pokedex app.  
  
Victor picks it up quickly, and retreats to one of the open chairs in the lobby to fiddle with it. Hop is clearly distracted, drumming his knuckles on the counter impatiently. She snaps her fingers, finally getting him to look at her. “Earth to Hop. Are you even listening?”  
  
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Sorry.”  
  
Sonia shakes her head. Leon’s right, much as she hates to admit it. His head is in the clouds. “You need to focus up. Getting distracted can cost you a lot.”  
  
It strikes a nerve. He sighs and slumps on the counter, resting his chin on his hands. “Whatever. I can just figure it out as we go.”  
  
He reminds her so much of Leon.  
  
Sonia pops her gum loudly, fighting off a smirk when it startles him ever so slightly. “Suit yourself. Leon seemed to think it’d be useful, though.” She shrugs nonchalantly and leaves him to his own devices.  
  
She ends up leaning against the back of Gran’s old leather armchair, twirling a lock of hair that tugged loose from her ponytail. Nervous habit. It’s just, beyond weird to see Leon sprawled on the sofa, hat laying across his lap, one arm draped over a throw pillow, and the other across the back. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be here, after everything.  
  
He catches her eye and pauses in the middle of a story, “They all set?”  
  
“Should be.”  
  
Gran nudges his foot with her cane, “Tell me more about Unova.”  
  
“Actually,” Sonia butts in. “Leon, I was hoping to have a word with you.”  
  
“Sure!” When he doesn’t move, she clears her throat and flicks her eyes toward the stairs, and he finally takes the hint. “Oh, yeah.”  
  
She doesn’t like the smug look on Gran’s face.  
  
The staircase leads up to the balcony, overlooking the rest of the lab and flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled to the brim. Sonia leans heavily on the wood railing, and resists the urge to shift to the side when Leon ends up following suit -- his elbow a hair’s breadth from hers. She hates that it’s distracting. She hates that he’s close enough she can smell his shampoo. Eight years and countless sponsorships later, and he uses the same kind, and it’s still intoxicating. “What’s up, Sunny?”  
  
And just like that, the spell is broken. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”  
  
He chuckles, tilting his chin down sheepishly and failing to hide a flash of his teeth. His cap dangles from his hands. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. Am I in trouble?”  
  
She snorts. “I was just curious why this year. Why not wait til he’s older to endorse him?”  
  
“Hop?” He rubs at his chin, his stubble making a scratchy sound. “He’s been dying to challenge for years.”  
  
“No, I mean,” she huffs, “why so young?”  
  
He shrugs. “There’s been a push for endorsing younger challengers. They get more sponsors, more hype.”  
  
“He’s thirteen, Leon.”  
  
“And he’s been religiously studying my battles and researching since he was five. He’s saved every cent of his allowance for nearly as long.” He nudges her gently, “Sonia, he’s more prepared than we ever were. He’ll be okay. Victor, too.”  
  
She doesn’t look at him. Her eyes are trained on the boys, who are chatting and messing around with their pokedex apps while their starters play around. Gizmo watches them lazily, occasionally sweeping his tail across the floor for Hop’s Scorbunny to chase.  
  
When she speaks again, it’s practically a growl, “I still think Rose is an insufferable twat.”  
  
Leon snorts, and reaches into his pocket. “You can tell him yourself, if you’d like.” He takes out his phone and pulls up an e-vite, grinning widely. “Opening ceremony is in a few days, after party’s going to be a lot of fun. You should come.”  
  
Sonia eyes the ticket longingly. Lavish party? Excuse to dress up and escape the smothering confines of Wedgehurst? Remarkable food on Rose’s dime?  
  
Leon, with everyone in the room clamoring for his attention...  
  
Sonia frowns. She should decline.  
  
But she’s already got the perfect dress in mind.


	4. hand

iv. hand

  
  
_They hear the stadium before they see it.  
  
The week of Opening Ceremonies draws crowds from all over Galar, clogging the streets of Motostoke like the black smog that pours from the city’s smokestacks. Sonia leads Leon along by the hand so he doesn’t get lost, weaving in and out of the throng of spectators and following the roar of the stadium’s speakers. He bumbles along behind her, starry-eyed and gravitating toward every vendor they come across.  
  
The lift carries them to the upper sector of the city, where the stadium sprawls before them. Registration is a whirlwind of making lodging accommodations, distributing customized jerseys, and logging their pokemon in the system. It’s overwhelming, but she holds fast to Leon’s hand and lets him take the lead here, smiling and laughing and mingling with the rest of the contestants. She only hopes he doesn’t mind, but if he does, he doesn’t let on.  
  
They’re forced to separate when the ceremony is about to begin, filed into locker rooms to change, then asked to line up by the numbers on their jerseys during the procession. Of course Rose's charge would receive the coveted number one, and so Leon is amongst those leading the charge. He withdraws his hand from hers reluctantly, flashing a huge grin at her and promising to catch her afterward.  
  
She feels small surrounded by hundreds of unfamiliar faces. They march as a unit through a tunnel beneath stands, and with every step she finds herself growing more and more anxious. The thought of being on display for all of Galar makes her dig her heels into the ground, stopping just short of the spotlight. She takes a step back, and is shouldered aside by one of the much older contestants. Self-doubt starts swirling in her chest like a storm, and she struggles to take a full breath.  
  
A warm, steady hand slides in hers. She looks up at Leon, shocked to see him out of formation, and he shrugs. “Being up front is cool, but I wouldn’t even be here without you. You ready for this?”  
  
He squeezes her hand, and they step onto the turf together._   
  


\-----------

  
“What do you think? Too skimpy?”  
  
Nessa doesn’t even look up from her phone. She’s laying belly down on the bed, ankles crossed behind her. “You realize you’re talking to someone who shows up to work every day in a bikini, yeah?”  
  
Sonia purses her lips, hiking the gown and stepping further into the hotel room light, twirling in front of the floor length mirror. Runs her hands down her torso and over her hips to smooth the shimmery teal fabric, adjusts the plunging v, flares out the hem, admires the open back. It’s only when she makes a pleased little _hmph_ that Nessa lays her phone down on the bed and wolf whistles. “Shit, Sonia, when’d you pick up _that_ little number?”  
  
“Online sale,” she says, idly twirling her hair back into a tight ringlet. “You don’t think the sequins are a bit much?”  
  
“Definitely not,” Nessa purrs, sliding off the bed to admire it up close. “You’re going to absolutely slay Lee.”  
  
Sonia can’t quite fight off a smirk. “Mm. I’m more concerned with not looking like a troll next to you.”  
  
Nessa scoffs, already digging through her things that’ve been scattered haphazardly across the vanity. She retrieves a glittering diamond choker that nearly makes Sonia balk -- it’s got to be extremely expensive, even though it was probably a gift from Nessa’s sponsors -- and fastens it around her neck. She sweeps Sonia’s hair over one shoulder and narrows her eyes, clearly pleased with the adjustment, and winks coyly. “In a dress like that, you might stand a fighting chance.”  
  
It’s a generous statement.  
  
They spend all day lounging around the hotel room, swapping jewelry and shoes and stories, laughing until Sonia’s stomach hurts, and helping each other with makeup and hair. She’s missed this, she realizes, and it makes her heart feel full and empty simultaneously. Nessa and Raihan are always busy with their gyms and modeling, Leon’s the unbeatable champion and damn near inescapable as his face is plastered on everything across the region, and her?  
  
She’s the disappointing lab assistant.  
  
It’s hard to dwell on it though. Not when she’s having this much fun. Not when she feels like a goddamn mermaid, even next to Nessa in her intricate designer gown.  
  
The feeling doesn’t resurface until they reach the gala.  
  
Nessa squeezes her hand and winks as she flounces over to the other half of Galar’s hottest item. Raihan managed to put on a proper tux for once, looks like. He tucks Nessa under his arm roughly in a hug, hand resting on her hip, and the other waving Sonia over. Her stomach clenches, but her expression remains smooth and polished as porcelain.  
  
“I see Nessa finally dragged you out of that stuffy ol’ lab!” he booms, eyes glittering with mischief. His breath is already sharp with alcohol. “How’ve ya been?”  
  
“I’ll be better once I locate the bar. Seems you’re well acquainted with it already this evening.”  
  
He howls his laughter, clapping her on the shoulder. His teeth gleam like the fangs of his dragons as he grins at her, “Cheers to that, mate. Put it on my tab, we’re celebrating tonight!”  
  
“Celebrating?” Nessa asks, poking him in the side. “Didn’t you just have your ass handed to you in your exhibition match?”  
  
“Bugger off, Nessie,” he slurs, palming her face and gently shoving her aside. “That match is old news. I’m talking about my new sponsorship I just scored!”  
  
“Oh love,” Nessa tuts, pulling up her phone to burst his bubble, “you wanna talk sponsors...”  
  
Raihan swipes the phone from her, tucking it in his breast pocket and laughing as she struggles to reach for it. Even in stilettos, she’s no match for his height. His laughter is like rolling thunder, volume amplified in the ornate ballroom. It sends shockwaves through the more civilized guests, drawing stares their way. He's always known how to draw attention to himself, good or bad.  
  
Nessa tries to shush him through her giggles, which only eggs him on. Finally she grabs his lapels and yanks him downward, back to earth, shutting him up by kissing the breath out of him. When they finally come back up for air, Nessa has successfully retrieved her phone -- and Sonia is halfway to the bar.  
  
Classical music filters through the din of people mixing and mingling, courtesy of the string quartet near the stage. She orders a double martini, and when she asks to put it on Raihan’s tab the barkeep snorts. “Open bar, miss.”  
  
Her mouth twitches into something resembling a grin. She should’ve known, cheeky little shit. “Then a single will do for now.”  
  
She watches Nessa and Raihan from across the room, oblivious to her absence. There should only be room for joy when she sees how happy they are -- joy that they’ve found each other, that they’re thriving personally and professionally. Nessa’s her best friend, and Raihan’s a well-meaning moron at worst. She loves the hell out of them both.  
  
But something ugly, something she’s not proud of, coils in her gut.  
  
She intends to drown it with alcohol.  
  
Sonia’s polishing off her second martini when Rose takes the stage, and her lip involuntarily curls. His white tux is accented with a single red rose in his breastpocket, and she chooses to focus on that when he speaks -- not on his perfectly coiffed hair, the flourish of his hands, or the way everyone else in the room hangs on his every word.  
  
The second he introduces the champion and Leon takes the stage, everyone is drawn to them like a magnet. She hooks her heel on the bar stool, anchoring herself there as she takes a gulp of her drink, and glances around to see if anyone else is immune to their pull.  
  
She’s surprised to see Hop, of all people, slumped on a couch with a scowl that must match hers.  
  
Curious.  
  
She follows his glare across the ballroom to where Leon and the chairman are conversing, and -- oh, that was a mistake. Leon catches her watching, and she finds herself subconsciously straightening her posture, batting her lashes longingly. At her drink. She holds it up as if to inspect it, the center of her attention and affection, the only thing that can quench her thirst.  
  
She’s never been the most convincing liar.  
  
It takes him a while to get to her, wading through a throng of admirers seeking his attention or an autograph, but when he says hello, his voice sounds breathy. It only serves to fuel her, and she crosses her legs daintily. “Good evening, Leon.”  
  
“I’m so glad you decided to come, Sonia,” he says, settling into the stool next to hers. He doesn’t move to order a drink -- instead drinks _her_ in -- eyes skimming her in a way that leaves her warm and tingling. And maybe a little smug. “You look absolutely ravishing.”  
  
“Thank you.” She runs her tongue across the inside of her lip, hazarding a glance at his getup. Maroon suit coat with gold buttons, white silk jabot, tan pants tucked into sleek black riding boots and of course... “You almost manage to pull off a cape with a suit.”  
  
He exhales a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Rose insisted. Makes the sponsors happy and all.” He tugs at the faux fur that lines the nape of his neck. “I normally don’t mind, but it’s rather hot in here.”  
  
Sonia raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”  
  
“Too many people,” he says quickly. Clears his throat, leans with his back against the bar and rests his elbows on the counter. “Good turnout this year, for the challenge.”  
  
She decides to take pity on him, and go along with his not-so-subtle redirect. “Helps you’ve got a larger sample size, since Rose insists on cradle-robbing. I imagine half’ll drop out before Kabu.”  
  
“Maybe so,” he muses. After a beat he stands, turns and bows his head, extending his hand for her to take. “What say we join our friends on the dance floor, hm?”  
  
The grand gesture is meant to be overblown and silly, but she can’t help but wonder if Rose’s egregious ways haven’t begun to rub off on him. Sonia takes his gloved hand in both of hers, patting it gently to decline. She is very aware of all eyes on her -- every admirer in the room must be wondering if she’s off her rocker for rejecting him. “I’ll catch up with you lot soon. There’s something I need to do first.”  
  
If Leon’s hurt, he doesn’t let it show. Takes it in stride with a charming, too-perfect smile. It makes her stomach clench -- Rose must’ve found that chipped lower tooth of his unsightly and sprung for veneers. She hates him for it. It’s like he’s picked apart everything she once loved about the man in front of her and polished it beyond recognition.  
  
But it’s still Leon who winks and squeezes her hand. “Save a dance for me, will you?”  
  
She smiles serenely, and flags the barkeep. “But of course.”


	5. natural

v. natural   
  


Sonia doesn’t pry herself away from the bar until she has her third drink in hand. She’s not sure what she intends to do, but the alcohol makes her feel bolder, while the room around her dulls.  
  
“You look like you’re having about as much fun as I am,” she says in lieu of a proper greeting, perching on the back of the plush loveseat the youngest Harris boy has claimed.  
  
Hop startles a bit, glances up, then crosses his arms. His frown deepens, and he continues to stare straight ahead. “Hi, Sonia.”  
  
“What are you doing over here by yourself?” she asks, picking at the polish on her manicured nails. “I thought for sure you’d be having the time of your life, chin-wagging with all the other challengers.”  
  
He shrugs, but doesn’t offer any explanation. She follows his gaze across the room, to where a group of challengers have gathered around the chairman. Not just Rose, though -- a young boy who looks an awful lot like Hop’s mate is right in the thick of it.  
  
“Victor seems to be getting along swimmingly,” she comments, swirling her drink.  
  
Ah, that does it. Hop’s face clouds up a bit more, and he hunches forward. “Yeah. He’s a _natural_.” He practically spits the word.  
  
“Seems that way.” Sonia moves to sit next to him, and Hop blinks in surprise. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not thrilled about your mate’s success?”  
  
Hop sighs, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees, covering his face. “That’s not -- I’m happy for him, yeah? I want him to do well. I’m glad he got endorsed so that we could travel together…”  
  
“...But?”  
  
He’s quiet for a moment, and she can practically hear the gears turning in his 13-year-old, ill-adjusted head as he carefully sorts through his thoughts. After a moment he sighs, waving her off. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”  
  
“Feelings aren’t stupid,” she says firmly. “They don’t always make sense, but they’re not stupid.”  
  
Gods above, she sounds like Gran.  
  
“No offense, but what difference does it make to you?” he asks. The words are pointed, but his tone lacks venom. She suspects he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, just like his older brother.  
  
They’re so much alike. Maybe that’s why she hates to see Hop do anything but smile.  
  
“Only room for one pity party this evening, and I’m older, so I’ve got dibs,” she says. When he still doesn’t look at her, she crosses her legs and sips at her drink. “I’ve got all night, mate. Out with it already.”  
  
Hop eyes her dubiously, and when she raises an eyebrow, he finally throws his head back dramatically with a groan, sinking into the sofa. Like he hopes he might disappear altogether. “I was so excited for Lee to come back home. He’d been gone so long, and I just -- I thought if he endorsed me, we’d get to spend more time together. Practice battles, dinner, maybe traveling together some…” He sinks down even further, voice growing softer. “I’m really happy that he endorsed Victor, too -- honest. I’m glad Vic’s getting his shot…”  
  
“But you’re tired of having to share,” she finishes for him, looking down at the lone olive that’s sunk to the bottom of her drink. The sentiment hits a little closer than she cares to admit.  
  
Hop perks up a bit, sitting a little straighter. Like he’s surprised she gets it. “Yeah, exactly. And -- and sometimes it feels like people think Leon gave me a handout I don’t deserve, just because I’m his little bro. But I earned it, Sonia, every bit as much as Victor did. I’ve watched all Leon’s battles, read every battle theory book he brought from your gran’s library. I’ve been practicing with Cotton for years…” he trails off, clenching his eyes shut. His fists dig into the cushion beneath him, shoulders trembling slightly.  
  
“Hey,” Sonia whispers after a moment. He buries his head in his arms, and she nudges him gently.  
  
“‘M done talking…” he mumbles, voice muffled by the sleeve of his hand-me-down suitcoat.  
  
“Me too,” she agrees, getting to her feet. “C’mon, I’ve got a better idea.”  
  
He glances up and stares at her offered hand skeptically. “Like what.”  
  
“Like getting your mopey arse on the dance floor.” His eyes widen, and she smiles coyly. “You’re tired of being in Lee’s shadow, yeah? Let’s make him jealous.”  
  
He hesitates, brow furrowed. “I’m not interested in helping you get back at my brother, if that’s what this is.”  
  
She huffs, retracting her hand and placing it on her hip. “Honestly, Hop, he’s not that fragile. You want him and everyone else to notice you? Come dance with the girl who turned him down. You might even have a bit of fun.”  
  
His eyes flick to the floor. “I don’t know how…”  
  
“Lucky for you, I’m a great teacher. Now if you’ve run out of excuses, shall we?”  
  
Sonia leads him gently to the empty dance floor, dead center. Gone are the days she’d settle for dancing on the fringes. He’s stiff at first, hand hovering awkwardly before resting on the small of her back. His touch is feather-light. “Is this okay?”  
  
She nods. “Relax a bit, it’s like dancing with a bloody broom handle. Just follow my lead.”  
  
And he does. He’s almost cute, the way his tongue pokes out slightly when he’s focused. Hop’s never been one to half-ass anything, and it turns out dancing is no exception. Soon he’s keeping pace with her, even venturing to take the lead himself with the tempo changes. Other couples began to trickle in, filling the room and making Hop loosen up even more. By the end she’s holding out her finger, letting him do ridiculous spins at the end of her arm until he’s nearly too dizzy to stand and both of them are laughing breathlessly.  
  
She doesn’t miss Leon watching them from near the stage, trapped in a conversation with the chairman, and some posh woman who must be a sponsor.  
  
“Alright Hop, mate,” she laughs after what feels like an eternity, tugging him off to the side. His grin threatens to slide off his face, almost as if he’s disappointed they’re ending so soon. “These heels are killer, I need a break. But it’s perfect, because I’ve got your next mission.”  
  
He frowns, confused. “Mission?”  
  
“Yeah, for Operation Stop-Feeling-Sorry-For-Ourselves,” she says, stifling a hiccup. Gods, that last martini hit like a freight train. She feels all fuzzy at the edges. “I’m going to take a breather, and you--” she pauses, grabbing him by the shoulders and steering him around to face a table three rows over, “are going to go ask that cute lil baddie over there to dance with you.”  
  
He squints, and shakes his head when he sees who she’s set her sights on. “No way Sonia. That’s Marnie, she’s wicked cool. Trains dark types, and wins all her matches without even dynamaxing!”  
  
“I know who she is,” she scoffs. “Her big bro’s a gym leader, so you have something in common. Plus, she’s been admiring your slick dance moves all night.” He still doesn’t seem convinced, and Sonia rolls her eyes. “Fine. A hundred quid on her saying yes.”  
  
His amber eyes light up. “Now we’re talking! You’re on.” He turns to go, pauses, and next thing she knows his arm is wrapped around her waist in a quick side-hug. “Thanks, Sonia,” he murmurs.  
  
Sonia gives him a mock salute, and settles in with a smug grin as he darts away.  
  
A full shot glass appears over her shoulder, and she glances up to see Nessa smirking at her. “You’re not nearly drunk enough, babe. This is on the house.”  
  
The redhead hums, raising it in the air to clink against Nessa’s, before downing it in one go. She can’t help the look of disdain as heat claws its way down her throat, but Nessa hardly looks fazed. “Fuck was that, jet fuel?”  
  
“Close enough.” Nessa sidles up next to her, somehow still smelling of lavender and vanilla in a stuffy room full of people. She nods at the dance floor, where Hop is gingerly showing Marnie how to dance. How quickly the pupil becomes the master. “Not quite the Harris boy I expected you to be wooing tonight.”  
  
Sonia exhales a laugh through her nose. “Me neither.”  
  
Nessa’s grin is devilish. She’s been spending too much time with Raihan. “You’re absolutely powerless against them.”  
  
Sober Sonia would deny it. Tipsy Sonia buries her face in her best friend’s neck and groans. “It’s those fucking _eyes_ , Ness. They have no business having eyes like that, the fuck.”  
  
“I know, love.” Nessa pats her shoulder gently, before giving it a squeeze. “You ready to join the big kids now? There’s talk of an after party.”  
  
Sonia groans and points at her feet, pouting. That shot sure kicked in quick. “Can’t walk. Feet hurt.”  
  
“Then take them off, you ninny,” Nessa laughs. “You’ve gone soft.”  
  
She slips off her heels and gets some relief, but there’s another reason entirely that she’s dragging her feet.


	6. space

vi. space

  
  
_It takes every ounce of her self control to remain on the sidelines.  
  
This battle feels personal, and every bit as much hers as it is Leon's. As much shit as they give Avery, they're a talented battler. Or at least, skilled in the art of attrition warfare.  
  
Avery's first move is to have their Slowpoke summon rain, a move taught specifically to dampen Leon's spirit, and render Vesta's flames near useless. It's a smart tactic, and admittedly not one she and Leon had prepared for in all their hours of training -- but rain or shine, the key to beating Avery has always been to get under their skin. It's easy enough to do.  
  
The cornerstone of Avery's dignified, reserved battle style is their ability to feed their Pokemon telepathic instructions. They stand reticent on the sidelines, silently issuing commands with an insufferable smirk -- like this is all some sort of inside joke to them.  
  
What a shame it'd be if they were unable to concentrate on communicating.  
  
Leon's in constant motion, jogging up and down the side of the field, barking commands and praise in a near endless stream -- serving to embolden his Charmander, and deteriorate the patience of his opponent. It's overplayed, borderline theatrical, and perhaps most importantly -- it **works**.  
  
Sonia hazards a glance at Mustard to see what he makes of the display, but is surprised to find his attention elsewhere, lips pressed together in a grim frown. Gizmo squirms in her arms as she cranes her neck to follow his stare.  
  
She almost doesn't recognize the man at first glance. He's dressed modestly, with a ball cap pulled low over his face and dark sunglasses despite the overcast sky. She's seen him countless times on the telly, but only once before in person on an equally dreary day.  
  
She remembers wondering at the time what kind of man precedes his arrival with decorative sprays of his own namesake, wears pale gray amongst a sea of somber black, who dares bring up business to an old woman in mourning. The funeral parlor had been drenched in blood-red roses, a murder at the hands of his hubris.  
  
A triumphant shout snags her attention back to the battle at hand, just in time to see Avery recall their Slowpoke before the referee's flag even hits the ground. They tug their hat down over their eyes as they stomp away, Pokeballs encircling their head like a hive of angry Combee.  
  
The chairman and Avery might get along, she thinks.  
  
The ceremony is later that evening. She sits wedged between Gran and Hop, who practically crawls in her lap to be closer to Gizmo, constantly cooing and stroking his fur. They all laugh at the way Hop's already unruly hair stands on end from the accumulated static.  
  
There are four new recruits to the dojo this year, but thanks to his most recent victory, only Leon is inducted with the highest honors. It means he will get to study directly under Mustard himself. It means, someday, he will choose a tower to master. Her heart swells. It's everything he's dreamed of, and she couldn't be more proud.  
  
The heavy perfume of roses creeps into the room, overpowering the traditional ceremonial incense. Off to the side, the chairman cradles a full bouquet, watching Leon and Vesta with appraising eyes.  
  
The smell makes her sick to this day._   
  


\----------

  
Their intimate group has grown considerably, the circle widening to make room for Leon and the people clamoring just to stand in his vicinity. He's messing with his phone when he catches sight of her and Nessa making their way over, and nearly spills his drink in his haste to get to his feet.  
  
They don't move quickly enough, and are intercepted halfway across the room.  
  
The chairman weaves through the crowd like a rattlesnake to head them off, the other partygoers mere blades of grass that bend over backwards to get out of his way -- the click of stilettos tailing him the rattle warning of his approach. Rose's shadow is willowy and dead-eyed. They make a killer combo.  
  
"Vanessa, Sonia!" Rose calls out, face creased into a perfectly calculated smile. "So good to see you both here."  
  
She feels Nessa's nails bite into her arm at her full name, and Sonia sucks in a breath. Message received -- should've moved faster. "Good evening, Chairman. Oleana."  
  
The shadow makes no move to acknowledge her, instead glancing at Sonia's bare feet in apparent disdain. As if to compensate, Rose sweeps Sonia's hand into his and grips her fingers tightly, stooping to plant a kiss with too-soft lips. It takes everything in her not to recoil, or let him know that he's rattled her. She'll deny him every victory she can, no matter how small. "A fine evening indeed. I've been hoping to catch a moment with you, before the night is through. Won't you excuse us, Vanessa darling?"  
  
It's not a request. Nessa shoots her an apologetic look and peels away, leaving her at Rose's mercy. He shepherds her to a cocktail table, waving over a waiter and winking at her. "Martini, correct?"  
  
Her stomach sours. He's been stalking his prey all evening. "Water is fine, thank you."  
  
His chuckle is as mirthless as it is insincere. He orders both for her, a glass of cabaret for himself, and nothing for his shadow. She looms over his shoulder like a bad omen, not joining them at the table. "Tell me, Sonia, how is the professor?"  
  
"She's well."  
  
"A shame to hear about her retirement," he muses, propping his head on his hand in an attempt to appear disarming. "Your dear gran's been a treasured colleague for many years. I can only assume you plan to pick up where she left off? That's quite a legacy to uphold."  
  
She gives him a tight smile. "Quite."  
  
Rose mirrors her, only breaking eye contact when Oleana's spindly fingers find his shoulder. He follows her gaze, then claps his hands together in delight. "Oh, splendid! Will you be joining us for a drink?"  
  
Leon positions himself between Sonia and Rose, forcing her to shift aside to make room. She's never been more grateful for created space. He holds up his glass and smiles. "I'm covered, thank you. What'd I miss?" His question is for the chairman, but Sonia can feel his gaze on her.  
  
"Oh, nothing of consequence. Oleana and I were just catching up with Sonia here." He brings his wine glass to his lips, eyebrows raised. "I take it you're here to steal her away? So soon?"  
  
A sheepish grin. "Guilty as charged."  
  
Her knight in a doofy cape. She could kiss him. His presence emboldens her enough to speak out of turn. "Yes, I'm afraid I do owe Leon a dance before the night is through."  
  
Rose puckers his lip as if to pout, then waves them away. "Well, don't let me keep you from it." Sonia moves to leave, but his hand ensnares her. She dares shoot him a look, and the corners of his mouth turn up a bit. It's an exercise of control. "My offer still stands, dear. There is always a place for you at Macro Cosmos."  
  
Sonia swallows thickly and nods, unable to speak, and it's only then that he relinquishes her -- once again jovial, having released her on his terms.  
  
Leon's hand is on her waist, gently guiding her onto the dance floor and out of the serpent's lair. She lets her left hand rest on his shoulder, and he takes the other hand in his. "Hope you don't mind me claiming my dance now," he says, voice low, leaning in to be heard over the din of the party. His smile is mischievous. "Seemed like you were debating stabbing him with your heel."  
  
"You know me so well," she laughs, but the joke falls flat and she frowns. Used to know me, she reminds herself. Her fingers curl against the thick fabric of his cape, brushing against a sewn-on sponsor's patch. They're running out of space, each one crammed against the one that came before.  
  
She remembers the day he received his first. The cape had been a gift from Rose -- a way to wear his sponsorships proudly, with the Macro Cosmos logo in dead center to signal their overarching endorsement. He'd watched with childlike glee as she sewed his first sponsor's patch -- a fancy seafood restaurant in Hulbury -- into the bottom left corner of the cape. Hugged her tightly when she'd finished.  
  
Another couple bumps into them, jarring her from her thoughts. They dance in tighter circles to accommodate the other guests who have flooded the dance floor now that he's here.  
  
His life is so crowded, now.  
  
"I must admit," he pulls her arm in, trapping warmth between them and bringing her even closer to him. She admits to herself that maybe it isn't entirely a bad thing. "I'm a little hurt you turned me down in favor of my teenage brother. Fancy yourself a cougar, these days?"  
  
She exhales a laugh through her nose despite herself. "He's a far better dancer than you ever were at his age. Seems he didn't inherit your two left feet."  
  
Leon brings his hand (and hers) to his chest and reels dramatically. "And now you twist the knife!" He steps back and creates enough space to twirl her out, and back into his arms. Her head spins, and her chest feels fuzzy. Must be the alcohol, she reasons. "I've come a long way though, yeah?"  
  
Sonia hums, choosing her words carefully through the haze. "I'm sure you learned far more from the lessons Rose paid for than I could've ever taught you."  
  
"Rubbish," he says, and her heart quickens as he catches her gaze and holds it there. "You've always been my favorite teacher."  
  
Her cheeks flush and she glances down quickly, lip working between her teeth as she bites back temptation. God, she needs another drink. Or maybe five.  
  
He must sense her discomfort, because he looks down as well and chuckles awkwardly. "You and Hop sure looked like you were hitting it off. That's new." She shrugs a shoulder, and he clears his throat. "How's he seem to be getting on?"  
  
"Seems like something his brother should know more about than me."  
  
"Normally, yeah," he says, letting out a tired sigh. "He's not been talking to me as much lately. Think he's cheesed off I bought him and Vic tickets to Motostoke inside of letting them go through the Wild Area. You know how it can be out there."  
  
More than anyone. "He didn't mention that to me."  
  
"Right…" he trails off a bit, hesitating and inadvertently slowing. She takes the lead, getting him back in sync with the tempo. "I did have something I wanted to talk to you about."  
  
Her eyes narrow. "So help me, if you try to make a case for me working for that creep--"  
  
He lets go of her hand, holding up his palms in mock defense. "Come on Sonia, I know better than that. Give me some credit." She still looks skeptical, but allows him to take her hand again -- this time lacing their fingers together, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "I wanted to ask you about the Slumbering Weald."  
  
She stiffens, but keeps her tone level. "What of it?"  
  
Leon hesitates, drumming his fingers against the small of her bared back. "Hop ventured in."  
  
"What did he see?" she asks quietly. She's not sure she wants to hear the answer.  
  
"Dense fog, mostly, but he saw movement deeper in. Thought he was hearing the wind, but it petered out further in and he still heard the howls. He managed to call me before..." He's watching her carefully, expression guarded. "I got there as quickly as I could, but he was unconscious and dazed, and pretty damn spooked. Not unlike how I found you."  
  
Except she hadn't woken up for two days. And when she finally _had_ gotten the courage to speak about it, to try to describe the nightmares that plagued her, the howls that beckoned her, no one believed her except Leon. Not even Gran. "I'm not sure I understand what this has to do with me."  
  
"I was just wondering whatever came of your research. About the harbingers of--"  
  
"Nothing," she says, a little icier than she means to. "You heard Gran, Leon. It's a folktale. It's not real." _Stop getting caught up in fairytales and intangibles, Sonia._  
  
"But it was real to Hop. And it was definitely real to you," he presses. When she doesn't look at him right away, he squeezes her hand. "That's real enough, yeah?" She shrugs, and he mimics her. "I dunno, I just thought you might want to know. I plan to look into it some, but I'm not nearly as good at this sort of thing as you are. I thought maybe..."  
  
He doesn't finish the thought, but then again, he doesn't really need to. It's an invitation to travel, to research history, to revisit the stories she'd pored over during their original journey. Here on the dance floor, with ample booze in her system and Leon holding her close, it's an intoxicating prospect.  
  
But eventually the night will end. The musicians will pack up their things, the partygoers will trickle out into the streets. The buzz will wear off. And Leon will go back to belonging to Galar, and above all else, the chairman. It's inevitable and sobering. "I have responsibilities, Leon. I have a lab to help manage. I can't just up and leave to go traipsing all over Galar on some... wild goose chase."  
  
The words don't belong to her. Leon may be Rose's puppet, but she's become Gran's mouthpiece.


	7. forget

vii. forget

  
The song ends as if on cue, taking the magic of the moment with it. Leon slows to a stop, expression unreadable. “Of course. I understand.” Inclines his head toward the bar, letting go of her hand to rub the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. “I could use another drink, you? If you keep me here any longer Rai’s going to get jealous.”  
  
She smiles weakly and nods, “Can’t have that, can we?”  
  
But Raihan always finds a reason to make a fuss.  
  
“Oi, lovebirds!” he booms when they approach, Rotom phone hovering over his shoulder. “Nice of you to join us.” He jumps sideways when Nessa’s elbow digs into his ribs, and flashes a cheshire grin as he moves to take shelter behind Leon, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “What, love? Son’s been hogging the Harris boys all night.”  
  
Leon ducks out of his hold, shaking his head. “Uh uh, mate, you’re not using me as a meatshield.”  
  
“C’mon, _unbeatable_ _champion_ , you see that look she’s giving me? I don’t stand a chance in hell alone!”  
  
“Idiots, both of you.” Nessa sweeps her braids over her shoulder in one fluid motion, and links arms with Sonia. “We’ll be at the bar. You can join us if you promise to be on your best behavior.”  
  
Raihan puts Leon in a headlock, and musses his hair for good measure when he protests. “Count us out babe, that’s a promise built to break.”  
  
The bar is packed, but Nessa’s presence is enough to clear a few barstools, wide-eyed fans practically falling over themselves to give up their seats. Sonia’s barely got a drink in hand before Nessa leans over conspiratorially, swatting her arm. “See? I told you, Leon looked a right mess. You’ve still got it, babe.”  
  
Sonia snorts lightly, pressing her lips against the rim of her glass. “He wanted to ask me a favor, s’all.” Nessa sucks in her cheeks, and Sonia growls, “Not _that_ kind of favor, fuck’s sake.”  
  
Nessa pouts, leaning forward heavily on the bar and blinking languidly. “Slightly less interested, but go on.”  
  
“There’s not much to it. He wanted me to do some research for him. Strictly business.” Nessa raises an eyebrow, like she seriously doubts that, and Sonia frowns stubbornly. “Not that it matters any, because I turned him down.”  
  
“What, not keen on working for your ex?” Sonia shoots her a look, and Nessa laughs and waves over the bartender. “Good then, no conflict of interest for you to make your move at this after party.”  
  
Sonia’s face darkens. “I’m not making a move.”  
  
“Not like this you aren’t.” A round of shots materializes, and Nessa carefully places two in front of her. “Look, Son, I love you -- but you could use a good lay more than anyone I know, you’re wound tighter than a spring! Where’s all that big talk from earlier today about letting Lee have his way with you?”  
  
Heat rushes to her cheeks, and she kicks halfheartedly at Nessa’s shin under the bar, hissing for her to quiet down. The shot glasses go untouched. “I don’t know, Ness. Things are just different. It’s not the same between us.”  
  
“Well of course not,” Nessa huffs. “Honestly, love, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. He’s only in town for the night, and after that, well,” she shrugs, “who knows.” She downs one shot after the other, stacking the glasses on the counter and giving Sonia a pointed look.  
  
Sonia knows. She knows all too well what happens next. It’s the final nudge she needs to reach for the row of shot glasses before her, shooting them back with not nearly as much grace, but equal determination.  
  
For once, she wants to forget.  
  


\----------

  
_The Slumbering Weald, she decides, is not aptly named.  
  
She’d stood at the old gate blocking the forest’s edge countless times before, fingers clenched tight around cool moss and rotted wood, staring into the gaping maw of woods rumored to swallow people whole. Never quite certain of why she always felt drawn there, despite the way the energy shifts and her hair stands on end whenever she’s near.  
  
This time had been different. She’d let the door of Harris’ cottage slam shut behind her and ran blindly, spurred on by hurt and shame, found herself climbing the fence without a second thought -- lured by a force she could only describe as magnetic. Like the needle of a compass pointing true north.  
  
Their fight plays on an endless loop in her head, and she can’t help but wonder if a better friend would’ve been happy for him. There’s no doubt that’s what he’d wanted -- he’d been grinning from ear to ear when he’d told her the news, shown her the letter with a heavy wax seal and a rose insignia. She’d stared in disbelief, a pit in her stomach and knot in her throat. He called it a once in a lifetime opportunity. She called it a copout, and may as well have struck him across the face by the look he gave her.  
  
“He’s the one being selfish, not me,” she insists to the Weald, but like Leon, it is oblivious to her betrayal. It continues to move around her, without her, and it’s dizzying to try and keep pace. To not be left behind.  
  
The shadows dance. The wind whispers harshly in her ear. The undergrowth rustles to life with every step she takes. The fog rolls in, seeping through the trees like watercolors bleeding across the page, pale brushstrokes against a stark monochrome canvas.  
  
The Slumbering Weald feels very much awake to her.  
  
Gizmo trots along at her feet, unable to quite keep pace on stubby legs, and Rook is perched on the edge of her shoulder, ever-vigilant. It isn’t until she hears him chitter and feels his feathers puff up, feels his weight shift as though he’s preparing to take flight, that she’s given pause.  
  
She casts a glance over her shoulder, chewing on her lip uncertainly. A small part of her had hoped to see the glow of Vesta’s tail flame, to hear Leon calling after her.  
  
When she realizes he’s not coming, her jaw sets. She ventures forward blindly -- deaf to the warning trills of the wildlife and numb to Gizmo nipping at her heels, desperate to shepherd her away. It’s as if she’s pulled along on marionette strings, thoughts anywhere but the vines and mist threatening to ensnare and swallow her whole.  
  
Gizmo growls. Electricity tickles at her ankles. Rook tugs at her hair and she yelps, swatting him off her shoulder. He chitters at her in frustration as he flies away, and when she tries to call out to him, she chokes on suffocating fog. She’s on the ground now, Gizmo’s barks growing more and more distant as the sound of her own heartbeat crescendos in her ears.  
  
The fog swirls before her into something familiar yet foreign, a transient being with wolf-like features and piercing yellow eyes.  
  
The last thought in her head before it hits the ground is to wonder how long it will be before someone even notices she’s gone._


	8. familiar

viii. familiar

The shots hit her much quicker than the martini, making the room jerk around her like a strobe light. But Nessa’s hand is cool in hers, and she reluctantly allows herself to be led back to the group of fans surrounding Leon. He’s taking up more space than necessary on a velveteen loveseat, cape slung over the back and arm draped across the top. 

Nessa claims her perch on the arm of Raihan’s chair, retracting her hand from Sonia’s and leaving her rudderless in a sea of unfamiliar faces. It doesn’t matter, really. They’re all the same to her, all clamoring for his attention and drinking in the presence of the Unbeatable Champion. It’s pathetic. Fruitless.

Familiar.

Through the haze, she thinks, this is her cue to leave. Raihan is preoccupied with Nessa, Nessa is preoccupied with her phone, and Leon -- 

Leon’s eyes catch hers from across the circle, and anchor her to the spot. It mixes with the alcohol and emboldens her. Hell with it, may as well have some fun. He’ll be gone by morning, and if she keeps pace, so will her memory of tonight.

She doesn’t ask for permission to occupy the other half of his claimed loveseat. Doesn’t need to -- he’s already shifted and made space for her next to him. It’s infuriating how easily he does it here, almost performatively, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. As if he hadn’t run out of space for her in his life a long time ago.

But god, his smile is nothing less than intoxicating. She smooths out her dress and tucks up one knee, turning to face him and drowning out everyone else -- leaving them to lap harmlessly at their ankles. When she lays her arm primly across his, she can practically  _ feel _ the envy radiating from Leon’s captive little audience. 

There’s talk of an after party. Raihan’s got a penthouse suite on retainer, and enough kegs to keep them going well into the night. She catches details in wisps of conversation, between alternating sips of her last call martini and the bottle of water someone handed to her. The party dwindles around her, and suddenly everyone is standing up to leave. Sonia does so a little too quickly, sways on her feet, then collapses back in her seat.

“Ready for round two?” she asks, undeterred, leaning over Leon’s lap to fist bump Nessa. She loves her. She’s so pretty and strong, she’s a good friend, and she helps her make good decisions, like drinking more and worrying less. Raihan’s always been an idiot, but he makes Nessa happy, so he’s ok too.

Nessa pats her cheek gently, almost regretfully. “Sure babe.” She points an accusing finger at Leon, and lowers her voice to a growl. “Get my girl home safely, or I’m feeding you to Lockjaw as a snack, Harris. And I can promise you it’ll be anything  _ but  _ a ‘champion time’.”

Leon winces, and gives her a mock salute. “Loud and clear.” He turns to Sonia and extends a hand. “You wanna try standing up again?”

She sticks out her tongue at him in response, gathering her gown in her fists. “I can do it myself.” When she bends over to buckle the straps on her heels, all the blood rushes to her head, and she reaches blindly for that water bottle. “When I’m good ‘n ready.”

The hotel is only three blocks away, but it feels like an absolute hike in her heels. Every wobbly step on the cobblestone street takes concentration, and she shivers in the chilly night air. It’s sobering. She’s very aware of Leon walking at her side and slightly behind her, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other hovering in the air in case she should stumble. 

“Aren’t you cold?” It’s the second time he’s asked. She can practically hear the offer he wants to make, and it makes her think of huddling together beneath blanket forts as kids, tents as teens, sheets as young adults.

“I’d rather freeze to death than wear that hideous quilt, Harris.” If only pride were enough to keep her warm on nights like these. Instead she finds herself falling into step beside him, and when she holds his arm, it feels so natural she starts to believe that maybe, for one night, they can pretend they haven’t grown up and apart. 

The way he places his hand on the small of her back as they pass through the lobby, guiding her to the elevators, makes the prospect harder to ignore. Her heart skips erratically when he presses the button for the 4th floor. She can’t seem to stop stealing glances at him, trying to get a better read. “Not up to the penthouse?” she asks, picking idly at her nails.

“I thought you might want a chance to freshen up first. No sense in arriving early, anyhow.” 

Sonia clenches her teeth and forces herself to straight ahead, not keen on being caught staring. The metal doors distort their reflections, unrecognizable in each other’s company after all this time.

Either Leon plans to ditch her here, or he feels it, too. The spark that’s dwindled but never died, lying dormant for so long despite her best efforts to smother it with academics and relationships doomed to fail. 

She’s clung to a theory for years -- if she could have him one more time, even just for a night, maybe she could accept that he was never hers to keep. Maybe then, she could finally let him go.

“Level with me for a moment,” she says, much more confidently than she feels. It takes two swipes for her key card to be accepted, adrenaline making her fingers jump involuntarily. Thankfully she can count on Leon not to notice. She swings the door open and leans in the doorframe, arms folded across her chest as a last line of defense. “You never intended to take me to that after party, did you?”

He exhales a laugh, running a hand through his hair. The wavy lock that tugs loose proves ruinous to her willpower. “Guilty as charged.” 

It’s reflex to reach out to him. To reach up and tuck his hair behind his ear, to let her nails gently graze against his jawline, to smooth out the collar on his suit coat. “What  _ are _ your intentions, then?” she asks, voice low and eyes searching. His throat bobs, but he doesn’t back away.

Sonia pushes her luck by pulling him down to her level. 


	9. promise

ix. promise

_Her head is still swimming in fog when she regains consciousness._

_The dismal gray of the hospital room is blotted out by bright splashes of color, balloons and flowers and stuffed animals with well-wishes stitched into their stomachs. She fixates on a large bouquet of red roses in the corner, the smell nauseating. Her first request of the nurse that discovers her awake is to remove them, and then to fetch her gran._

_She’s never seen Gran so fraught with worry. The old woman hovers even once they’re home, no matter how much Sonia assures her she feels fine. It’s three more long, agonizing days before she’s allowed visitors -- though she hears the doorbell ring a handful of times, only to be turned away. Sonia doesn’t dare get her hopes up, and Gran refuses to entertain anything but rest and recuperation._

_Gran has just brought her breakfast on the third day when Sonia hears a tentative knock at the front door, and Gran huffs. “That boy is relentless.”_

_“Gran,” Sonia ventures, “I’m feeling much better, honest. I don’t mind a visitor.”_

_She narrows her eyes, considering it for a moment, and then sighs when a louder, more persistent knock makes Gizmo bark. “Fine. Just for a few minutes though. You still need your rest.”_

_Sonia nods earnestly, but the moment Gran’s out of the room she reaches for her comb, hurriedly smoothing out the tangles from her hair. She pulls the blankets up to her chin, inexplicably self-conscious about Leon seeing her in her pajamas despite countless sleepovers and campouts together as kids._

_For all his bluster at the front door, she hears him hesitate on the stairs up to her room, and again right outside her door. He peers in tentatively, fingers gripping a paltry bouquet of wildflowers so tightly his knuckles are bleached white. “Sunny?”_

_“Hey, Lee.” He hovers in the doorframe, uncertain, and she pats the edge of her bed. “You can come in, I don’t bite.”_

_“Your gran might, though,” he grumbles, but he sits down anyway and extends the flowers. “I uh, brought you these. Hop helped. He’s been missing you somethin’ fierce, and they reminded us of you.”_

_She gladly takes the bundle, sticking them without hesitation in the glass of water at her bedside that’s gone untouched. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him they’re weeds. “They’re pretty, thank you.”_

_“How are you feeling?” he blurts, sliding his bag off his shoulder and onto the floor. “Remember anything?”_

_“Not much.” Her nose crinkles, trying to separate fact from fiction. She’d pleaded with Gran to listen to her, to believe her. Now she’s not so certain she’d seen anything at all. “They said you were the one who found me, carried me out and found help. Thought they were pulling my leg -- you can’t even find your way out of Wedgehurst half the time.”_

_He exhales a sheepish laugh. “I can’t take all the credit. Rook found me outside the Weald and led me right to you. He’s a clever little thing.”_

_Sonia nods, picking at the seam of her quilt. The hush that falls between them isn’t quite comfortable. She doesn’t know whether to thank him or apologize first, but he saves her from the decision by reaching for her impulsively. He wraps his arms around her tightly and buries his face in her shoulder. She can feel him trembling. Sonia splays a hand across his back, surprised. “Hey, Lee, I said I’m fine--”_

_“I know,” he says, poorly hiding a sniffle as he clings tighter, “I was just -- I was really worried, and the adults wouldn’t tell me anything, and it’s my fault ‘cause we fought--”_

_“Lee, hey -- it’s okay…” She rubs his back, uncertain what else to do with him. “It’s not--”_

_“I thought I’d lost my best friend,” he says, and she pauses. He pulls away, swiping at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m sorry. You were right. I wasn’t seeing things through with the dojo. I was frustrated because it feels like I’m not getting anywhere.”_

_“No, Leon…” she reaches out and gently grabs him by the wrists, pulling his hands away from his face and forcing him to look at her. “I think you should go.” He stares at her in disbelief, and she relinquishes her grip in favor of sinking further into her pillows. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I was upset -- I just didn’t want you to leave without me. It’s always been the two of us, y’know?”_

_“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he says, forehead pinched in a way that makes him look serious. Makes him look like his father, in that one picture on the Harris’ mantle before they’d all been turned face down and eventually stowed away._

_“I mean it. You should do what makes you happy, and if it’s not the dojo… maybe it could be this. It sounds like a good opportunity.” She forces a smile for his benefit, and gets crushed in another hug for her trouble._

_“Mum told me to wait ‘til I finish school, but the chairman said he’ll pay for everything when I’m ready. He really thinks I’ve got a shot at the top. And hey -- maybe he could endorse you, too! You’re every bit as good as me, surely he’ll see that.”_

_She frowns, and pokes him in the middle of the forehead. “I’m going to uni straight away. One of us has to be the brains, and it surely won’t be you.”_

_“Yeah, in the_ **_fall_ ** _. C’mon, don’t you want to travel some before bein’ tucked away in some stuffy old dorm? It’d be so much fun!”_

_“You just want me along to cook so you don’t starve to death.” He bites his lip in poorly concealed laughter, and she kicks at him from under the blankets. “Suppose I did tag along. I’d expect payment.”_

_“What, the privilege of my company wouldn’t be enough?”_

_“Hardly.”_

_“Would you consider a bribe instead?”_

_“...I’m listening.”_

_His eyes light up. It’s all the invitation he needs to reach into his bag, and pull out a gleaming red and white sphere. “I got you something.” Sonia holds the pokeball delicately in her hands, as though it might shatter, and looks at him helplessly. He nudges her encouragingly, and says, “Go on, let him out and say hello.”_

_She shouldn’t. Gran’s already been fussing about having two pokemon to look after once she’s off to uni, but at least Gizmo and Rook are relatively low maintenance. She doubts Leon had the sense to catch her something easy to look after._

_Curiosity gets the better of her._

_She taps the button, and suppresses a squeal of delight as a jet black ball of fluff materializes on her lap. She tentatively strokes the sleeping kit, and he stretches with a yawn before blinking at her with azure eyes. “Oh my god, Lee, he’s -- Zorua are so rare, how did you--”_

_“They wouldn’t let me visit you, so I spent a lot of time on the isles. Helped to stay busy. I found this little one raiding my bag. Shredded one of my snapbacks, the little shit. Figured you two might get along well since you’re both lacking in taste, so… he’s yours, if you want him.”_

_She’s already smitten. Her breakfast goes untouched, the two of them playing with the Zorua, tossing names back and forth and laughing as he chases the strings on Leon’s hoodie. She only recalls him when she hears Gran moving around downstairs. She’s not ready to have that conversation just yet._

_With the Zorua recalled, Sonia shifts over to make room for Leon on the bed. He nestles in next to her on top of the blankets, wrapping an arm around her. “Successful bribe?”_

_“Yeah,” she laughs, suddenly all too warm with him pressed against her. She wriggles her toes, trying to find cooler air beneath her quilt. “He’s perfect, thank you.” Leon smiles contentedly, and runs his knuckles across her upper arm. “I’m glad you came after me. I never want to fight like that again.”_

_“Me neither,” he breathes, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re my best friend, Sonia.”_

_She feels her eyes drooping, and burrows her face into the crook of his neck. “Promise?”_

_“Promise.”_

**+++**

She’s lost count of how many kisses they’ve shared over the years, but in a lot of ways this feels like a replay of their first -- gentle, vulnerable, questioning. This time he’s the one caught off guard and tenses against her, but she knows every button of his to push. She runs her tongue across his bottom lip and he suddenly stirs to life, not resisting as she tugs him further into her room, letting the door click shut behind them. 

Her hands flit all over him, like she’s trying to reacquaint herself with how it feels to hold him -- his lips find hers, her chin, her neck, like he’s trying to make up for nearly a decade of lost time. 

In her hurry to steer him to the bed, his heel catches the edge of the vanity, and it sends a jolt through him. She can feel him stiffen and breaks the kiss, allowing him a moment to recover before rising up to meet him again. This time he grabs her wrist, gently, and clutches it against his chest even as she murmurs her discontent.

“Sonia…” The tone of his voice is sobering. She withdraws from his grasp and looks at him -- _really_ looks at him. He’s heavy-lidded and short of breath, and he can’t seem to meet her gaze. “You’re drunk.”

“So?” She hates how desperate it sounds, hates that her first impulse is to kiss the breath out of him so he can stop talking, stop thinking. “You are, too.”

“I know,” he says, voice thick. “That’s -- I don’t want us to do anything you’ll regret in the morning.”

Her lip curls, because more than anything, she hates the pitying look he’s giving her. “I’m an adult, Leon, I’m entitled to my drunk mistakes.” He slumps on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. She wonders if he realizes just how patronizing he sounds. “Lee, if you don’t...” she trails off, words clogging in her throat, unwilling to accept that he might not want her the way she wants him, that being with her is something he could regret come morning. “I can respect if _you_ don’t want this, but for fuck’s sake, at least be real enough to say so instead of pretending it’s out of some misplaced sense of chivalry.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

“Shit.” She eases onto the end of the other bed, curled away from him so he can’t see the embarrassment burning across her cheeks like a wildfire. She’s fleetingly angry at Nessa for leading her to believe that Leon, Galar’s gem, the man who could have anyone he wanted -- would choose to hang on to a piece of the past he’d fought so desperately to leave behind. “Fuck, sorry, I thought--” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says quickly, and she can practically hear the apology in his tone. He’s always been a people pleaser, far more concerned with guarding her feelings than speaking his mind. 

“I’m getting some mixed signals here, Harris.” She tosses a pillow at him with a pointed look, and tries to take comfort in his flushed cheeks as he lays it across his lap. At least this is humiliating for both of them.

“Sorry, I meant -- not like this.” 

He rubs at his face, and she can hear the scratch of his stubble, and she tries not to think about how it felt on her neck just moments before. “Like what?”

“Like you can’t decide if you hate me or not. One minute you’re blowing me off, the next you’re tearing my _clothes_ off -- you can’t even look me in the eye, Sonia, not even now.” She rises to the challenge and meets his gaze, and she’s surprised to see how tired he looks. “There are moments where it feels like no time’s passed, but then… I can’t just fall back into this with you when you feel like a stranger half the time.”

“I doubt that’s stopped you before,” she scoffs, but it catches in her throat when she sees how it wounds him. He winces, and she backpedals. “Sorry. That’s not… that wasn’t a fair thing to say.” Leon shrugs, like maybe that’s _exactly_ the kind of thing he’d expect her to say, and she can’t help but defend herself. “But y’know, nothing’s really changed around here. _You’re_ the one who left. If anything, you’re the stranger.”

“What would you have had me do?” he asks, teeth gritted. “Sit around and mope? Turn down the opportunity of a lifetime?”

“You could have _called_.”

“And say _what_ , Sonia?” She jumps as his voice hikes in volume, and he rises to his full height to pace the floor. “Beg you to reconsider? Apologize? You never even told me what I did for you to--” He stops in his tracks when he catches sight of her, jaw set and eyes red. His hands fall uselessly to his sides, and his voice quiets. “You left me first.”

Sonia nods, biting her lip and staring at the floor, willing her breath to steady and her tears to stay at bay. She wants to fight back. To tell him that he’d left her behind long before she’d ended things. That she’d just been the one with the guts to pull the plug, after so long denying that she didn’t fit into the life he was building for himself.

But her head is heavy with residual booze, her heart with regret, and she doesn’t have the energy to fight. She’d dreamed for years of facing him down, telling him exactly what she thinks of him and how they left things. Now, she can’t help but wonder what difference it would even make. She pulls her knees up to her chin and buries her face in sequins, hoping he’ll take the hint and make his exit. 

She’s not expecting him to drop next to her like a stone, or for him to brush her hair over her shoulder so he can look at her. “Hey… look, I meant it when I said I was glad you decided to come. Still am. You looked incredible tonight.”

Her chest shudders with a weary sigh. She leans her head on his shoulder, because even in the aftermath, he’s always the one she seeks for comfort. “It was nice to see everyone.”

He plants a kiss in her hairline, sowing seeds of longing in her gut. “For what it’s worth, I’d really like to try. Being friends again, I mean.” She lifts her head to look at him, and he nudges his shoulder against hers. “I’ve missed you a lot, Sonia.”

“My number hasn’t changed.” She can feel him watching her, and she turns to meet his eyes. “If you’re serious about trying.”

His promises used to mean something, but now they only leave her feeling empty and hollow.


End file.
